semi-open;

[bracchium]

CHARACTERS: Bucky, Sam, Steve, and guests
WHERE: The Gardens
WHEN: Backdated to D040-idk 45ish?
SUMMARY: After another death in the nest, Bucky feels the need to run.
WARNINGS: Nightmares, talk of violence, etc.


[Death in the Nest never comes easy. Anakin's had been so violent and sudden and now Aoba's seemingly the opposite. Something planned and slow and when the pain of the loss surges through the Nest, Bucky's left shuddering in its wake. He can't stay here, that's all he knows in the moment as he surges from his quarters. His backpack is heavier than he remembers as he hefts it over his shoulder. However, he's only a dozen feet down the hall before a conversation with Sam springs to his mind. Over shared drinks, he agreed to think about not running, about camping, about seeking offered help when this urge rises.

But he can't bring himself to search for help directly. Not when all he can focus on is the pain of a purposeful death rocking through his nerves.

And yet his feet bring him to the Gardens, to dirt crunching under his boots instead of the darkness of the farthest corners of the Station. He's reminded again of Sam, of their talk of camping, and he quietly sends up a ping of his location to both his broodmate and Steve. The impression of his panic colors the leaves of the trees around him, burning incandescent over the link.]

Comments

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ It doesn't escape Sam that Bucky's able to able to wake up, assess for danger, and then relax again. That's where Sam's at, on his good days, and even as he scans over the landscape of Bucky's mind - the programming stays distant. It's quiet, just the two of them, and when he feels the way Bucky's guilt lessens...

Sam's eyes slide shut again, settling his hand in Bucky's hair and fingers scratching soothingly at his scalp. It can wait.

They can stay here as long as Bucky wants, any time Bucky wants, and that thought flows across their connection.

Sam feels better when he's not alone, too. ]

[bracchium]

[Bucky presses his face further into Sam's shoulder and curls his arm about his broodmate's waist. The increased contact soothes him further, allows their minds to wind tighter together and hold the programming at bay. It's not always like this, his mind provides without Bucky needing to form the thought into words. When he's alone it's worse, much worse, but when he's with others, especially Sam and his broodmates, the programming quiets to a hum.

For now, he doesn't see anything wrong with wanting something, with being selfish in his desire to sleep. He's exhausted and exhausted weapons don't work as well.]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ There a soft, appreciative hum - both out loud and mentally - as Bucky presses closer and wraps his arm around his waist. They've touched a lot before, slept with Sam curled around him, but they haven't gotten to linger like this. And Sam - he wants it, to stay this close, to have as much physical contact as possible, to get to keep touching him. Their broodbond pulses strong like this, but even aside from that...

It's Bucky. Sam's so far beyond pretending like he doesn't care a whole lot about him.

He doesn't need to form that into words. Sam will be here; he'll always be here, whenever the programming starts to be too much. He lets himself sink into their shared mind space as they drift in sleep, not quite intentionally, anchoring down into the scorched landscape like the roots of a tree, the seeds of a thousand different plants, the echo of a songbird. Something that could be, a foundation to work with, somewhere down the line. Maybe the next time they fight off the programming together.

Just needs a little sunshine, and he doesn't put that to words, either, but it's there anyway. ]